Elena pov
I kept remembering Damien's voice through the prison phone.
"Stay alert. Don't trust anyone you don't know."
"I'll be careful."
"Promise me you won't give up."
"I promise."
I'd broken that promise.
I hadn't been careful enough. Hadn't stayed alert.
And now I was going to die here.
I started crying. Deep, wrenching sobs.
For myself. For Damien. For everyone I'd lost.
Mom. Dad. Adrien.
All dead.
And now me.
Brighton was right. No one was coming.
Margaret might notice I was gone in a few days. Might call the police.
But by then, I'd be dead.
Damien wouldn't know until Saturday. Wouldn't be able to do anything from prison.
I was alone.
Completely alone.
The blood from my cuts was pooling on the floor beneath me. My shoulder burned. My arm throbbed. My leg felt like it was on fire.
I was losing too much blood.
If Brighton didn't come back soon, I might bleed out before he even got the chance to torture me more.
Maybe that would be a mercy.
